


nothing now can come to good

by Wildehack (Tyleet)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, non consensual mind invasion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:10:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5680885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyleet/pseuds/Wildehack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s thought about the girl obsessively ever since she escaped him. Dreamed about what he’d do if he got her back, the strategies he’d take to pare her mind open like a fruit, the lessons he’d teach her, the prize she would make as one of his Knights. He’d dreamed of making her his apprentice, his sister in all but blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing now can come to good

He’s thought about the girl obsessively ever since she escaped him. Dreamed about what he’d do if he got her back, the strategies he’d take to pare her mind open like a fruit, the lessons he’d teach her, the prize she would make as one of his Knights. He’d dreamed of making her his apprentice, his sister in all but blood.   
  
She’s been trained, since the last time they met–he can feel his uncle’s fingerprints on her mind, and it fills him with a boiling possessiveness, not entirely sure if it’s meant for Skywalker or for the girl. At any rate, it makes him careless, throwing himself at the locked gates of her inner self with brute strength. He is Darth Vader’s legacy; the Force clings to his atoms, as much a part of him as his heart, or his skin. The only person who has ever been stronger than him is Skywalker. Last time he was taken off his guard, was beaten, was fighting back the devastating effects of his sacrifice. He is confident he can break her now, and puts all his strength into one great implacable push into Rey’s mind.   
  
He is therefore completely unprepared when Rey yields immediately, flinging the doors to her mind wide open. She envelops him as efficiently as quicksand, and he can’t break free, surrounded as he is by Rey’s feelings, the quiet and powerful rush of the Force through her soul, pinning him down like a deep-space current.   
  
 _There you are_ , she says, an emotional pulse of triumph and fear underlying her words, her voice coming from everywhere and nowhere. _I see you_ ,  _Ben Organa_.   
  
He hasn’t thought of himself as Ben for years, but suddenly and completely he _is,_ Benjamin Organa as he has always been. It hurts, the truth piercing him deep, and he wants to struggle, wants to run as far away as possible but he _can’t_ , he’s as helpless as Rey was when he touched her mind in the forest, helpless to do anything but gasp as she reaches for his memories.   
  
She touches him, and he is four years old again, riding on Chewbaca’s shoulders, his hands tangling in that familiar coarse hair, and Dad is giving him a crooked, vulnerable smile, saying  _Hey, kid, remember me?_ , and he _does_  remember his dad, of course he does, but he’s been gone for so long and  _left Ben behind_  so he buries his head in Chewie’s hair, shakes it, and in the rush of guilt and inadequacy and blame and fragile love that pours off his parents he can’t even tell what he feels. Just lets his father’s feelings fill him up.   
  
He feels a pulse of disbelief from Rey, who cannot fathom anything but joy and relief at family coming home, whose yearning loss was never tempered by anger or vindication. Her grip on his soul shifts, and he is thirteen and he’s just run away from a terrible fight with his uncle. Terrible for Ben. Uncle Luke had let him scream, had listened to him quietly and offered calm, infuriating replies, had utterly failed to take him seriously, had treated him like a child and refused to even consider Ben’s perspective. When Ben stopped for breath, Uncle Luke had quietly told him that he would not be taking a Padawan, not even his nephew. He runs out to the cliff by himself and stands panting at the edge, staring out at the three silver moons setting over the waves. Uncle Luke is wrong, he thinks with a certainty that shocks him. Uncle Luke has always been infallible, the shining light that warmed the whole galaxy, kept them safe from the dark. But he’s  _wrong_ , Ben thinks with all the wild joy of a teenager discovering a truth, wrong about the Force, wrong about the Balance, wrong about  _Ben_. The knowledge fills his gut with heat, with hope, and he draws in shaking breath after shaking breath and wonders what to do  _now_.   
  
Rey draws back from this in fear, his absolute belief rattling her. She reaches for something else, something deeper, and what she finds is Ben at seventeen, lightsaber in his hands, T’iri dead on the floor. The slash on her throat is still smoking. Ben’s mother walks into the room, a blaster trained on his chest, utter devastation on her face.  _Oh Ben_ , his mother says, her voice hoarse with betrayal, tears spilling down her cheeks, blaster steady in her hands.  _Oh my darling_. And Ben wants  _so badly_ to fling his weapon down, to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness like a child–but if he does, T’iri will have died for nothing, and so will Lekka, and Michel, and Tés. He forces words through his aching throat:  _Get out of my way, mother. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will._  
  
Dimly he is aware that his imprisoned body has fallen to its knees, that his hands are squeezing emptily at his sides, that his eyes are filled with tears, that Rey is weeping too, although her grip on him has not faltered. She is frightened.  _You know right from wrong_ , she says with pure horror.  _You know what it is to be good. You have to make yourself do terrible things, but you do them anyway.  
_  
He knows, abruptly, that Rey intended to take him back to Skywalker, to General Organa, for whom she feels a terrible sense of loyalty. She is thinking now of disobeying her orders. She is thinking now about how easy it would be to cup a hand over the flame of his life, and watch it sputter out, how maybe it would be a mercy.   
  
 _Trust your feelings_ , Ben manages, forcing his eyes closed.  _Trust your hate._  
  
 _Like I’d trust you_ , Rey says with disgust, and clips him hard over the head with the butt of her weapon. The dark rushes in. 


End file.
